


Nerves

by The Results are Iridescent (flyingllamas)



Series: right on one side, wrong on the other [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 19:38:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11721150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingllamas/pseuds/The%20Results%20are%20Iridescent
Summary: Lúcio's never been good about listening to his lizard (or frog) brain. Accepting a stranger's offer to help him is such a bad idea but he can't help but to see the best in people.





	Nerves

If anyone asked Lúcio the worst part of performing on a stage, he’d instantly tell them it was the adrenaline high.

Don’t get him wrong, it was one of the best things anyone could experience. It was coming down from that high, sitting in the hotel mezzanine with shaking hands and a twisting stomach because he couldn’t face going back to his too-silent room yet, that he had a problem with.

Shaking hands made the task of taking off his prosthetics harder and more painful than it needed to be, but the nerve connectors in his legs needed a break so off they went. Really, Lúcio hadn’t had problems--well, major problems--with his prosthetics for years. However, the small, jarring movements that came with performing and dancing to his set was the perfect recipe for legs so sore that Lúcio almost cried out in relief when the locks disengaged.

As he came out of his tired, pain fueled haze, Lúcio suddenly found himself very glad he hadn’t vocalized his relief. Years of being subjugated by Vishkar had given him an almost sixth sense for trouble. In this case, Trouble sat at the bar in the form of a hulking, oddly familiar man. He wore a white suit that Lúcio guessed was worth several times the neighborhood he’d grown up in and his skin was a few shades darker than Lúcio’s own. Nothing really out of the ordinary, considering that they were both in Rio and a rather upscale part of it at that, but something was still crying out in Lúcio’s lizard (or frog, he thought with some humor) brain.

Though the man was very much Lúcio’s type (and he could hear the part of him that was Hana’s voice, the one that encouraged bad ideas, almost drown out his lizard brain at this realization), and there probably wasn’t any reason to worry, he decided it best to finally head back to his too-quiet room upstairs. Sparing one last glance to the man at the bar, Lúcio reached down to attach his right leg, wincing as the sore nerves harshly reconnected.

“The bartender says you do not drink. A shame, as I would have bought you one to celebrate your excellent performance tonight.”

Cold dread dripped down Lúcio’s spine as he paused in reaching for his other leg. He looked up through his lashes to see the giant man towering over him.

“The thought’s appreciated, thank you,” Lúcio said with a forced smile. Every alarm in his head was now wailing and he became aware of the fact that his hands were trembling harder than before. Whoever this guy was, Lúcio found himself wishing he’d brought the sonic amplifier with him. “It’s always nice to meet a fan. You’ll have to excuse me though, I’m so beat after performing tonight.”

Lúcio’s hand reaching for his other leg was stilled again by a gruff, “No. I don’t think I will.”

“Pardon?” Lúcio’s mental hackles were fully raised and his hand slowly drifted to his side to where his emergency beacon hung from his belt. He hoped desperately that the man wasn’t paying enough attention to see what it was. He’d never had to use it before, at least not while out on a gig, but this situation was getting weirder and weirder by the second.

“I said, I don’t think I will excuse you,” the man told him, stepping solidly into Lúcio’s bubble. “And that--” He caught Lúcio’s wrist and yanked it away from the beacon in a movement too fast to track, “--won’t be necessary. I only wish to speak with you.”

Lúcio wrested his wrist out of the bear trap-like grip.

“Well, start talking, because I don’t like where this is going!”

To his surprise, the man chuckled, the low sound vibrating in Lúcio’s bones in a not entirely unpleasant way.

“Not many are as brave as you when talking to me. Peace, I only wish to know about your prosthetics.”

Lúcio’s eyebrows shot up and the other man laughed again, probably at the bare surprise on his face.

“I’m not really sure I believe that,” Lúcio mumbled.

“I promise, that is my only intention. May I?” the man asked, gesturing at the loose leg leaning against the side of the chair Lúcio sat in. Lúcio hesitated before nodding. There wasn’t any harm in letting this man look at his legs, right? Besides, he had to admit his own curiosity was piqued by this huge man.

He could almost hear Soldier’s gruff voice saying, “Curiosity killed the cat, kid.”

The man pulled an ottoman next to Lúcio’s chair and held out a large hand expectantly. Cautiously, Lúcio put the prosthetic in the man’s hand, noting how it looked like it belonged to a child in his large palm.

“Could I get a name if you’re gonna paw over my gear?” demanded Lúcio huffily, leaning back into the overstuffed armchair and folding his arms across his chest.

“You may call me Akande,” the man murmured as he pulled a pair of glasses from his breast pocket. “Now, silence please. I need to concentrate.”

Akande. The name niggled some warning in the back of his mind but Lúcio couldn’t quite piece together this man’s identity. He figured Akande must not be that much of a big bad if his name didn’t suddenly ring a bell like say, Gabriel Reyes.

Lúcio watched with no small amount of anxiety as Akande picked over the leg. He strummed at the artificial tendons under the metal casing and clucked his tongue when he carefully ran his fingers over the connectors.

“Who built this?” Akande suddenly asked.

“I did.”

Akande met his gaze over the rim of his glasses.

“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

Lúcio felt his pride prickle under his skin at the comment. Was this guy seriously going to sit there in front of him and insult his work?

“Why is that so hard to believe?” he snapped. Akande held up his free hand in surrender.

“Peace," Akande said once more. "I did not mean to degrade you or your work. It is rather well constructed save for some issues I can foresee with the nerve tethering. How did you build this?”

Lúcio blinked in surprise and rubbed his neck sheepishly. He felt ashamed for instantly jumping to assuming the worst.

“A lot of trial and error, I guess. And stolen Vishkar parts. After I lost my legs, I started with pegs and crutches and went from there.”

“Ah yes, I do see some Vishkar technology in here. Is is the basis for how the prosthetic functions?”

“No,” Lúcio snapped and he was surprised at how harsh his tone was. "No. I only used their parts because there was nothing else I could use in the slums.”

Akande hummed out a small noise, whether in acknowledgment or agreement Lúcio didn’t know. He turned the leg around in his grasp once more.

“While well-constructed, the major issue I see is long term damage to the rest of your body if you continue their use like this. Everyday activities might not be detrimental but extended combat use is going to cause irreversible damage to your gait, nervous system and muscular structure over the next few years. You would be better off with peg legs if it’s not fixed.”

“How can you know that?”

“Long term military research into prosthetics kicked up after the omnic crisis, especially in Numbani. I’m surprised you’re not more aware of it.”

“I haven’t exactly had...access to that kind of stuff in my life.”

Realization dawned on Akande’s face.

“I see. Well...if you would allow me to take a closer look at the tethering on your actual legs, I may be able to make some on-the-spot adjustments to allow a bit more cushioning for the connectors. It would stave off some of the damage, at least temporarily, and give you more comfort.”

It took a moment to realize what Akande was offering and Lúcio’s face flushed hot from embarrassment. Adjusting nerve tethers was a humiliating process not only because so much of him was exposed during it, but because the responses generated from tinkering with the raw nerves left him overwhelmed enough that he couldn’t function for long afterwards.

No matter how much he was trying to give Akande the benefit of the doubt, he couldn’t do this.

“I’ll be fine, but thank you for the offer,” Lúcio told him before reaching for his leg. Akande moved it out of his reach.

“Lúcio…” The use of his name made him look up to meet Akande’s level gaze. “You are obviously in a great amount of pain from your prosthetics. Your hands are trembling and you had a stiffness to your gait when you entered this room tonight. Let me help you.”

It hit Lúcio that Akande had been aware of his presence for far longer than Lúcio had of his.

“It’s mostly adrenaline--” And fear, he didn’t say, “--really. I’ll be fine.”

“Mostly, you say. I’m not sure I believe that,” Akande said, echoing Lúcio’s words from earlier.

“Well, you’ll have to.” Lúcio lunged for the leg again.

Again, Akande held it out of his reach.

“Lúcio,” Akande said once more, quietly, “I am aware of how unpleasant nerve tethering can be. Personally so.” He sat the leg on the floor beside him (away from Lúcio, of course) And held out his giant right hand. Lúcio looked between Akande and his hand before reaching out to touch it.

Oh. _Oh._

The hand, despite looking completely normal, held no warmth to it. As Lúcio’s hand felt across it, he couldn’t feel the pulse of blood through it either. Upon closer inspection, he could see hairline marks that belied hinges and plates across the hand.

“Will you let me aid you now?” Akande asked. Despite being insanely curious about the prosthetic before him, Lúcio withdrew his hand.

“Why help me though?”

“We become stronger through conflict, and are remembered through history from such. The world will remember you as the hero who took on Vishkar, but it would be a shame for your memory to fade beyond that. You have so much potential, Lúcio. Do not let such a thing hobble you.”

A strange answer, but seemingly sincere. Lúcio could see the reason behind it, though. There was still so much he wanted to do, so many people he wanted to help. If what Akande said was true, he might not ever be able to with this holding him back.

“Fine,” he finally said. “But any funny business and I’m calling in the calvary, alright? And we’re doing this in my room, not yours.”

Akande’s deep laugh rumbled again and Lúcio had to resist the urge to shiver.

Oh god, he had it so bad for this guy and it was _such_ a bad idea.

“Alright, my friend, alright.” Akande reach across him to his other leg and his thick fingers brushed the top of Lúcio’s legs. This time, Lúcio couldn’t hold back the shiver. His bliss was short lived, though, when Akande disengaged the locks on his other leg.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

“I’m going to need to look both, am I not?”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to take it off here! Why not just wait until we’re in my room?”

“Why suffer the journey upstairs when I can just do this?” Lúcio yelped as Akande picked him up, single handedly, out of his chair.

“What the heck, bro? Put me down! I can walk on my own, thank you very much!”

Instead, Akande shifted him into the crook of his arm and grabbed the two prosthetics with his other hand before strolling casually over to the elevator.

“What is your room number?” he asked, seemingly unperturbed by the wiggling DJ sitting on his arm.

“Oh, right it’s, ‘Put me down right now’ on floor ‘Or I’ll punch you in your ugly mug’.”

Akande’s face was far, far from ugly, or so Lúcio’s mind supplied, but he ignored it in favor of feeling undignified. Akande smirked down at him.

“You’re welcome to try. I doubt you can do much to me.”

“It’s the thought that counts.”

Akande shifted him back slightly so Lúcio leaned slightly against his chest but it was enough that when Akande’s laugh rumbled out once more, the deep timbre of it almost rattle Lúcio’s teeth. He quickly scrambled to think of something, anything to drive down the less than appropriate thoughts bubbling up. Luckily, Akande seemed to not have noticed and instead patiently waited for Lúcio to kowtow. Scowling (but not really meaning it), Lúcio reached out and pressed the button for the fifteenth floor.

The elevator ride was quick, so Lúcio didn’t have (much) time alone to sort through his thoughts. When the elevator dinged quietly, he directed Akande to a door partway down the hall. Part of him was ashamed for fantasizing about Akande, especially as the man was generously offering to help him for seemingly nothing in return. He’d been nothing but professional and detached in contrast to Lúcio’s shirty and confrontational behavior.

But there was another part of him, a part of him that made a flush creep up his chest towards his neck when Akande shifted him forward so Lúcio sat somewhat on his forearm with a hand wrapped around his thigh, a part of him that preened when Akande praised his work on his prosthetics, that wished Akande would be slightly less professional and indulge some of the thoughts that ran through his head. It was the same part of him that tired of being a hero, placed on a pedestal so far above everyone else that he was untouchable and infallible.

Lúcio had never really been one to indulge himself in selfish actions, though, so instead of twisting around to wrap his arms about Akande’s neck and kiss him, he quietly retrieved the keycard from his pocket and held it in front of the lock until the light on it turned green.

“Is something the matter?” Akande asked as he let them into the room. “You’re so quiet suddenly.”

“Just tired,” Lúcio told him, wiggling to encourage Akande to let him down. It wasn’t entirely untrue, but Akande probably didn’t want to hear his inner ramblings.

Lúcio found himself set gently down on the edge of the bed, with his prosthetics leaning against the end of the bed. Akande shrugged of his suit jacket before loosening his tie and Lúcio found himself interested in his small pile of luggage across the room, anything to keep his thoughts in line.

“I have a small maintenance kit in my suitcase, if that would help any,” he told Akande. He finally looked back to see Akande had rolled up his sleeves and undone the first couple of buttons near his collar.

God, Hana was so annoyingly right. He was doomed the moment a good-looking man crossed his path.

Akande found the kit with little trouble, though Lúcio found himself wishing he’d put the most recent stuffed frog he’d received from a fan elsewhere. Akande said nothing about it, but Lúcio saw the smirk on his face as he set it aside.

Lúcio’s breath caught in his throat when Akande knelt down by the stumps of his legs. The kit was set on the coverlet beside him and Akande’s hand gently rested on his left leg.

“I don’t think I need to warn you about how unpleasant this is going to be,” said Akande. His thumb stroked the top of Lúcio’s thigh in what was probably meant to be a calming gesture. Instead, it wound the spring in his chest tighter, the one comprised of equal parts anxiety and overwhelming desire. Akande’s other hand pushed softly against his chest, encouraging Lúcio to recline back until he was resting on his elbows. “Try to relax, if you can. I’m going to start by tracing the tethers to see how far they go up your legs.”

God, this had to be a test or prank or something because this just couldn’t be happening right now. Surely, any minute now, Hana would jump out of the closet with a camera, yelling about how he’d just been punked. Her vast streaming audience would already know and the world would laugh for weeks about how Lúcio Correia dos Santos blindly trusted a stranger and led him back to his room.

Instead, he watched as Akande’s thumb slipped under both the leg of his regular shorts and the compression shorts underneath, hiking it up slightly. Lúcio’s breath hitched harshly in his throat and Akande’s eyes met his own.

“Are you alright?” Akande asked quietly.

“Yeah, just a little sensitive, sorry.” Akande’s face softened into his now familiar smirk.

“Sensitive? I think you mean ticklish.” His fingers deliberately ghosted over Lúcio’s skin next to the metal nerve tethers that reached up his legs. Lúcio found himself trying to kick out (which didn’t work too well when he was missing his lower legs), a startled laugh erupting from his throat. Akande’s deep chuckle joined it.

“In all seriousness, though, is there any way I could make this more comfortable for you?”

“No, I think this might be the best,” Lúcio lied. In reality, taking off at least one pair of his shorts might have helped to make the process easier, but they were currently saving what little dignity he had. He knew that his dick would probably continue to betray him, more than it already did in its semihard state, but his shorts did a good job of hiding it.

(He hoped.)

When Akande’s fingers returned to his legs once more, this time pushing up the shorts on both legs, Lúcio let his head fall back so he was staring at the bland ceiling instead of the man in front of him. His dreads slipped from where they lay on his shoulders, softly hitting the blanket beneath him. The fingers traced the golden branches buried in his skin, where they brought critical nerve connections to the surface to route them down to the connectors on the stumps. If Akande noticed the large amount of scar tissue on his legs, he said nothing of it. Lúcio’s thoughts threatened to go even worse places (like how those fingers would feel stroking him slowly) the further up his thighs Akande went. Thankfully, he stopped before Lúcio’s careful breathing (and control) could fail.

“I can’t imagine you doing all of this by yourself,” Akande mumbled as he reverently stroked one of the larger metal branches before tugging his shorts legs back down.

“Trust me, it wasn’t a walk in the park. I would do almost anything to make sure no one else has to go through that on their own.”

“Is that part of the reason you joined Overwatch?” Akande suddenly asked. Lúcio raised an eyebrow.

Most people tended not to bring up the fact that he’d joined Overwatch, if only for the fact that being part of the still somewhat-illegal organization sullied his ‘pure’ image in their minds. But, as he learned over and over again that night, Akande was definitely not most people.

“Kinda, yeah. I saw it as the best opportunity to do the most good in the world. Can’t really beat that, you know?”

Akande said nothing, instead opting to open the tool kit. Lúcio watched him, a bit troubled. Had he said something wrong?

“I’m going to start looking at the connection hubs, and making corrections,” Akande informed him as he slotted some of the finer instruments between his fingers. “I can’t promise any miraculous improvements with what little I’m working with here, but there should be a noticeable change with the amount pain you experience. Last chance to back out.”

“Let’s do this, then.” Lúcio sucked in a deep breath.

He could feel when Akande made contact with the bare hub after opening it up. It was almost impossible to explain to someone who’d never gone through the misfortune of having a raw nerve exposed, but he usually explained it this way when asked (usually by people like Hana):

Imagine hitting your funny bone. It feels weird because there’s not really an assigned response to it other than some pain, but it feels weird anyway. Now, add in all the other reactions the nerves in your legs are supposed to process (like arousal) and multiply it by about a hundred and it’s getting near to what he experienced every time he maintenanced the connector hubs. He did it without the benefit of any sedatives or anesthetic, because it would have caused issues with calibration.

As it was, the sensation punched the breath from Lúcio’s lungs and his arms turned to jelly, causing him to fall back against the bed. The overwhelming firing of the nerve endings caused him to cry out, and he would have arched and twisted off the bed if a large hand hadn’t found its way up to press him back down. Akande did not stop, but Lúcio wouldn’t have wanted him to. He agreed to this, and he’d see it through.

It seemed like forever, but in reality it was probably less than fifteen minutes. When Akande finally pulled away, covering the connector hubs and replacing the tools in their case, Lúcio was a mess. Sweat completely soaked through his shirt and tears flowed freely from the corners of his eyes back into his thick hair. Most embarrassing of all, he was hard and he knew Akande could see it. He’d heard of it happening to others, with all the mixed signals the raw nerves sent to the brain, but it’d never happened to him before. Not until now.

Exhausted from adrenaline and pain, and completely overwhelmed, Lúcio lay on the bed listening to the faint sounds of Akande moving about the room. He tried to wipe at the tears with shaking hands, but they wouldn’t stop coming.

The bed finally dipped under Akande’s massive weight as the man sat down at the head of it. A large hand stroked at his arm and Lúcio flinched, overstimulated.

“Can I help you?” Akande’s voice rumbled out, low and quiet. “A change of clothes would do you good and…”

He didn’t have to finish the sentence. Lúcio knew what he was talking about. He ignored the part of him that noticed that Akande seemed to be offering to help with it, writing it off as hopefulness from his exhausted mind. It took him a few minutes to find his voice to respond.

“No...no, I can do it. Just give me a bit. Everything is just too much right now and I need to calm down.”

Akande seemed to not have heard him or was, at the very least, ignoring him because Lúcio found himself being gently lifted and set in Akande’s lap. A large hand cupped his face, thumb wiping away the tear tracts as a pained whine worked its way out of Lúcio. Ashamed, he realized his dick was rubbing against Akande’s stomach.

“I know from experience that you’re not going to be able to calm down from this for hours unless you deal with that,” Akande said and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what he meant. “And afterwards, you’ll be too exhausted to take care of yourself. You don’t want this, I’ll let you be, but I want to help you. Please, Lúcio.”

Maybe it was because he was so overwhelmed, or maybe it was because some part of him imagined almost this exact situation all night, but Lúcio nodded. Akande pressed a kiss to his lips that quickly turned filthy as one of his hands rested on Lúcio’s hip. The other trailed from his face and down his chest, stopping only to thumb harshly at a nipple, making Lúcio cry out into the kiss. It was quickly muffled as Akande licked his way into his mouth.

Akande palmed him through his shorts before quickly flicking open the button  on them and pushing both pairs down. Still, Lúcio had some time to rut against him before they were off, enough time to feel that Akande was more than a little interested in him as well. The thought of Akande in him made him moan, though he knew his orgasm would happen long before that particular fantasy came to fruition.

True enough, it took embarrassingly few strokes of Akande’s massive hand for the hot feeling in his gut to coil painfully tight. The hand on his hip slid around to squeeze his ass before slipping between his cheeks. He felt Akande’s rough fingers brush against his entrance and that was all it took to send Lúcio over the edge, almost screaming Akande’s name as he did so. He felt come hit his chin as his vision whited out from the sheer force of his orgasm.

When he came to his senses, Akande’s lips were trailing along his jaw. He shuddered when a warm tongue lapped up the strange mixture of come and tears on his chin. Akande’s voice rumbled soothing words as he floated down from his high. Large arms embraced him tightly as he lost all strength and sagged against Akande.

“You’ve done so well, ayomi,” Akande whispered into his ear. “Let me take care of the rest.”

Akande managed to pull Lúcio’s shirt up and over his head before using it to mop up most of the mess he’d made. Lúcio found himself maneuvered under the blankets before Akande pulled away and got off the bed. A whine escaped Lúcio before he could stop it, but Akande stopped to stroke his head, carefully pulling Lúcio’s dreads from the loose band that held them back from falling in his face.

“Just rest.” And he did, floating in and out of consciousness as Akande cleaned up. He realized as Akande helped him into his oversized sleep shirt that he’d essentially left Akande with a horrible case of blue balls. Something must have shown on his face because Akande shook his head.

“I’m fine,” he told Lúcio as he sat down on the edge of the bed. He was now down to a white undershirt, his button up ruined. “You can hardly hold yourself up right now.”

He was right. Lúcio’s arms shook with the effort it took to prop himself up off the bed. He finally resigned himself into laying back against the mountain of pillows on the bed.

“I can’t even begin to thank you for your help,” Lúcio murmured as he nuzzled into the pillows. “This is going to make a world of a difference.”

This time, Akande smiled, truly so instead of smirking. Lúcio felt as if he could purr when Akande’ shand smoothed over his hair once more.

“It was my pleasure.”

Lúcio’s eyes started to drift shut and Akande moved to get off the bed.

“Wait,” Lúcio protested sleepily and Akande paused. “Maybe it’s selfish to ask, but will you stay? For a while longer?”

Akande smiled again and settled back onto the bed, reaching out stroke Lúcio’s head once more.

“Selfishness is not inherently a bad trait, Lúcio,” Akande told him. “You could benefit from being a bit more selfish in your life. The world owes you for what you’ve done for it, at least.”

“But I owe the world my best, and that’s not it,” Lúcio sleepily mumbled as he finally slipped off. He didn’t see the hard look on Akande’s face at his words, nor did he feel the kiss pressed to his forehead. All Lúcio knew that was when he woke, he was alone.

 

There wasn’t a warm body next to him when he woke and Lúcio knew he was foolish for wanting anything else out of what had essentially been a one night stand. Still, sorrow twisted painfully in his stomach as he buried his head into the soft motel pillow. He was not crying, he told himself. He just didn’t want to face the morning yet.

The facts were this.

One, Lúcio had never had a one night stand, contrary to popular belief. He knew himself, knew he’d get attached, knew something exactly like this would happen.

Two, Akande had never promised anything else. He hadn’t even promised what happened last night, only to give him some relief from his legs, and Lúcio was naive to expect anything else.

Three, Hana was going to kill him for being such an idiot. After she’d gone through her requisite best friend duties of soothing his broken heart with snack food and bad movies, of course.

Lúcio wasn’t usually shy about crying, but he knew there were far better things to save his tears for in this world.

Facts in mind, he finally rolled over to face the morning. A small bit of light filtered in through a crack in the closed curtains. Had he pulled them shut sometime last night? He couldn’t remember.  Lúcio pushed himself into a sitting position and quickly realized he was still bare when the sheets pooled around his waist. He quickly resigned himself to probably having to wrestle on the clothes from his suitcase over his prosthetics when he spotted some clothes, neatly folded and somehow disturbed by sleep, on the edge of the bed. Lúcio groaned and flopped back down onto the mattress.

Akande was making it hard to move on.

To complicate matters, something unfamiliar rang out in the silence of the room. Lúcio looked over just in time to see a hard light screen retract into a datapad base resting on the dresser across the room after announcing its new notification. It was certainly nothing Lúcio owned and he could only guess Akande had left it behind.

Lúcio quickly pulled on the clothing left for him (of all the shorts he could have packed, the ones with cute cartoon frogs that Hana gave him as a gag gift were the ones Akande had to see) before hopping into his prosthetics. The datapad chirped and readily opened its hard light display when his fingers made contact with it. Only two items were on its display: the message app leading to the notification that had caused it ring out, and an unnamed folder.

Hesitantly, Lúcio opened the only message on the pad. His heart clenched.

_Lúcio,_

_I regret that I was unable to say goodbye to you before I left, but something urgent came up. On this datapad you will find the research we discussed along with some suggested schematics. I wish you all the best, and may we meet again some day._

_Akande Ogundimu_

_P.S._

_Do not discount the short time we spent together. You are, perhaps, the most interesting individual I have met yet._

 

Lúcio felt the breath whoosh out of him as he pressed a trembling fist to his lips, willing himself not to cry.

 

He was so doomed.

  
  



End file.
